


projecting

by driedvoices



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedvoices/pseuds/driedvoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt has a problem. Jesse commentates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	projecting

"You know he's not looking at you, right?" Jesse says with, true to form, a hint of condescension. 

"Of _course_ I know—um. I have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt replies quickly, slouching back a little in his seat. It's not like he expected Finn to be staring or anything. He just has naturally good posture around attractive but woefully pea-brained football players. For whom he has no residual feelings whatsoever. Honestly. 

"Uh-huh," Jesse says, and grabs the chair next to him. "I just thought I'd mention it, so maybe now you can stop fruitlessly crossing and uncrossing your legs."

"I was simply repositioning myself, not that it's any of your business."

"Mm. Because it's completely necessary to spread your legs like a burlesque dancer in order to sit comfortably."

"I don't even respect you enough to be offended by that," Kurt says lightly, studying his nails. Which need to be filed, actually, he'll take care of that after glee. 

"I can't think of a reason why you wouldn't respect me," Jesse goads, and Kurt is not completely okay with his personal space being _this_ violated. Like, he's almost longing for the days of social leprosy; at least when everyone was loath to touch you for fear of queer germs, you didn't have to worry about Vocal Adrenaline's ex-star leering at you, Jesus H. Christ. 

"For starters, you have zero respect for my boundaries, which, in case you really are that dense, means back the hell off, please. Secondly, you're playing Rachel, who happens to be a dear—acquaintance of mine. And I can assume that fidelity isn't among your strong suits, either, since you've just admitted to staring at my crotch while your girlfriend is across the room being enamored with Stephen Schwartz's major works."

Jesse doesn't even have the decency of looking _bothered_ , infuriating Kurt all the more. "Nothing to dispute, I suppose. I might not win any awards for fair play or devotion, but you can't blame her for keeping me around."

"I'll sure as hell try," Kurt sneers, and then: "Why's that?"

"Why's what?"

"Why can't I blame her?" 

"I thought you just told me you could."

"Forget it," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. Schuester's dismissing the club, anyway, so he stands up and throws his bag over his shoulder. 

"Don't you want an answer?" Jesse calls to him. Kurt pauses and sighs. The door is so close, and yet, the cosmos is destined to keep them apart. It's almost Shakespearean: the tragic, doomed love of a boy and an inanimate portal to freedom. He turns around. 

"Well?" he says expectantly. Schue waves good-bye to them as he walks out, and Kurt tries politely not to cringe at his unfortunate hoodie-and-dress-slacks combination.

Then Jesse decides to launch himself at Kurt's face. 

"What the in the ever-loving name of _fuck_ ," Kurt says, dumbfounded. "I don't even like you as a _person_. Or a multi-celled organism. Or anything."

"Hn," Jesse says, and decides to ignore him, steering him towards a chair and parking him down in it. Kurt opens his mouth to protest further, but Jesse seems to take it as an invitation, and Kurt is losing his very first kiss to Rachel Berry's boyfriend in the music room with his eyes wide open. It's ridiculous. 

And also kind of hot, because Jesse, while not a Good Samaritan, is a far cry from unattractive, and he's in Kurt's _lap_ , which is making it so much easier to just put his brain on standby and freak out later. He's really freakishly good at this, too; Kurt doesn't really have anything to compare with, of course, but it feels nice enough with Jesse's tongue tracing his bottom lip, a firm hand on the back of his neck. Nice enough that he's okay with letting his hands rest on Jesse's hips lightly and tilting his head up into it, putting a little pressure against Jesse's mouth. 

As soon as he does this, in accordance with the cosmos' daily game of How Can I Ruin Kurt Hummel's Life Today, Jesse pulls back, wiping his mouth and looking smug. 

"What was that?" Kurt says, blinking about twice every millisecond. 

"Your answer," Jesse replies brightly.

"You are the scum of the earth," Kurt says, appalled and fascinated by the darkness of his eyes and the redness of his face. "Rachel was sitting here less than five minutes ago. Like, seriously, there's already a monogrammed seat in hell waiting on you."

Jesse just shrugs and starts to disentangle himself from Kurt's limbs. Kurt clings tighter. "What the hell?"

"You don't even like me, remember?"

"Oh, fuck you," Kurt sneers and pulls him back down.


End file.
